The Hogwarts Murders
by Pipeline
Summary: Professor Trelawny predicts that a murder taking place at Hogwarts will lead to a chain reaction of death and ultimately the end of Hogwarts.
1. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 1

**Rating: **PG-13  
**Pairing:** Irrelevant  
**Disclaimer:** The universe of Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the plot is all mine. ;)  
**A/N:** This is an older story that I wished to publish here, and the whole idea of it was to write a mystery with a VS. theme and then put the different characters in a different order, so the reader would have to figure out for him-/herself in what order the events occurred. I don't know how well I managed, but I at least had fun writing it. :) So please enjoy, and remember that the chapters are not in the correct order - you need to figure them out for yourself! /Piper.

* * *

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 1  
**

Potions was really taking up all his time nowadays - he almost did not have time for Quidditch practice anymore, let alone time to spend with his friends. He almost regretted being so persistent on becoming an Auror; it took a lot of effort. Had it not been for Umbridge, Professor McGonagall never would have vouched for him and he would not have been stuck with Snape for another two dreadful years. Being subjected to his sallow malice in a class full of Slytherins (plus Hermione) was one thing, but receiving a solid, mocking T on all his homework was truly aggrevating. Therefore an obligatory nightly walk really stimulated his senses and rid him of all frustration.

At least until tonight.

Harry was rounding the corner to the library, intending to go ahead down a couple more corridors before turning back, and almost collided with a dark shape emerging from an old tapestry. A tall, lean figure with silver blonde hair and cold, calculating eyes that glowed a fluorescent grey-white in the moonlight was towering before him. Draco Malfoy. The last person that Harry wanted to meet in a dark corridor. The Slytherin's last attempt to perform the Cruciatus curse on him was still very fresh in his memory, and he did not feel up to another exposure to excruciating pain at the moment.

The blonde sneered. "Didn't think I'd meet you here, Potter," he said unpleasantly, "but then of course you love to break the rules. You do know that the school is out of bounds at this hour, don't you, Potter?"

Harry felt the familiar pent-up rage building up inside of him, and he had the feeling that he was about to do something stupid. Clenching his jaws, he said, "What are you up to, Malfoy?"

"Oh, nothing that you have any business in. Now scurry off to your bed and I'll let you go for this time."

"What? You're losing your touch, Malfoy? Can't even reprimand a simple Gryffindor now?" He knew he should not be mocking him, but it was so hard to resist.

He made to walk past Malfoy, but the blonde grabbed the sleeve of his robes and held him back. "Don't push it, Potter. You're already getting at my nerves as it is. I should take points from you for disobeying the school rules."

"Really, what's the use, Malfoy? I'll just win them back anyway. Face it, you'll never amount to me."

Draco's grip hardened. "You'll wish you'd never said that!" he hissed in a true Slytherin spirit. And with a quick flick of his hand he had withdrawn his wand from his inner robes pocket and pointed it straight at Harry. "It will only take me an A and a K," Draco continued, and Harry had no illusions about this being less than a mortal threat. He backed away from the blonde, but then, acting on a crazy whim, he charged at Draco, knocking the blonde opponent off his feet. The Slytherin made a queer dance in mid-air, flailing his arms wildly around before touching down on the foot of a statue, the back of his head hitting the stone hard before coming to rest on the cold marble floor.

Harry fought for his balance, all the while expecting Draco to get up and utter the curse that he had recently threatened to throw at Harry, but the Slytherin remained still, unmoving. The sudden quiet of the night made Harry quiver. When he realised that Draco was not going to get back up on his feet, he gasped for breath, simultaneously understanding what he had done.

Blood poured out of the wound in the back of Draco's head, colouring the floor. But it was no cheery colour - not to Harry. Shaking and shivering to the bone, he kneeled beside the blonde's limp body, carefully shaking him. "Draco?" No reply. Of course there was no reply - he was dead. "Draco, please wake up, please don't be dead, please don't..."

Terrified of himself, Harry turned and ran as fast as he could, just ran - away from the truth of his crime. Later he found himself in the trophy room, chanting "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God" while unconsciously - and unintentionally - making all the trophies swirl around the room, _clink_ing against one another. He was vaguely aware of Professor McGonagall turning up and asking, "What is going on in here?" Screaming, "I saw him!", Harry fled from the scene. Hours later he found himself deep inside the Forbidden Forest, huddled against a tree, weeping.

* * *

It was assumed that a dark wizard had somehow gained entry to Hogwarts with the intention of killing Harry Potter, but instead had wound up murdering Draco Malfoy. Supposedly the young Slytherin Prefect had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. There were even rumours saying that Malfoy had tried to save Potter. Frightened for his life, Harry had fled and never returned. This was what they all believed until the day two years later when Ron got a call on a fellytone and heard Harry say, "I killed him."


	2. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 2

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 2  
**

She had been chasing after him for quite some time now; maybe this was the day that he would finally notice her. Hopefully he would give her that killer look that always made her melt and her heart speed up, because she really needed it - even if there was loathe hidden in those deep, icy eyes. Everything had become dreary and meaningless after Hermione's unfortunate death. She really needed the comfort of intimacy right now. It did not really matter if the second party was with her because he liked her or found her attractive, as long as she had someone near her.

Someone who could warm her.

Soothe her.

_Fill_ her.

She stalked down the stairs to the dungeons, hoping to find her secret love there. It would be too difficult to get inside the Slytherin common room, so she did not even intend to try that alternative. She just had to wait outside for him to show.

Not many minutes passed before footsteps approached her from behind. Startled, but also anticipating, she swirled around to find a hated pair of cold silvery eyes staring down at her. "And what do you think you're doing here?" the Prefect asked in an authoritative, but indesputably unpleasant tone.

She staggered backwards a few feet, desperately searching for words. Malfoy had always intimidated her, and the immense hatred that she felt for him did not amount to the fear that he awakened in her. If anyone at Hogwarts deserved respect for being dangerous, it was Draco.

"Well, aren't you going to answer?" he pressed impatiently. "Ten points from Gryffindor for ignoring a Prefect."

"But... but..." She still could not seem to find the words that she wanted to say.

Malfoy raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "You trying to say something, slut?"

She jerked as if hit in the face. Her eyes filled with tears. "No, I was just... I was just... Why did you take those points? I hadn't... I hadn't done anything..."

"Really? Another ten points for being snotty, then. Now sod off, Gryffindors have no business here." He passed her on his way to the common room. And when the hidden door opened...

There he was. Standing in the middle of a spacious room, gesturing wildly. Blaise Zabini. She needed him. She wanted him. Desperate to look into his eyes, to touch him, maybe be held, influenced her into doing something incredibly stupid. She pushed by the rightfully startled Draco Malfoy and ran up to the equally dumbstruck Zabini and threw herself around his neck. "Please, take me to your room," she hissed in his ear, feeling him jerk next to her, a short-lived tremour of hesitance passing through his wonderfully muscular and powerful body. She felt all the other Slytherins' stares burn into her nape, but she cared as little about that as she cared about her sweet Blaise being a Slytherin - an enemy.

When he finally regained his senses, he pushed her away violently.

She fell to the cold, hard stone floor, crying out in pain. Then she looked up into his eyes. So cold... so cold... but yet so sexy.

"How _dare_ you?" he shrieked, furious.

She just stared at him.

Never wanted to break eye-contact.

"I just wanted you to disgrace me," she said coolly, suddenly utterly fearless and bold. She was ready to go to any extent to get him where she wanted him. Inside. Now. For ever. "It doesn't matter what anyone does to me anymore, not since Hermione's death. I died with her. Disgrace me, Blaise. Please. It'd give you something to brag about to the others. Please, just disgrace me. I need you to disgrace me."

There was a moment of evident hesitation, then Zabini nodded. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?" Malfoy yelled from behind her. "You can't just take a Gryffindor up to your room, Zabini!"

Zabini glared at him intimidatingly. "No? Watch me."

She felt a sick satisfaction when he helped her back up on her feet and started to escort her to his dorm. She did not protest when the brute violated her and filled her with pain so excruciating, she had never felt anything like it; she screamed with dark, sick pleasure, because this was what she wanted. What she _had_ wanted for two whole months now.

"Now get the Hell out of here," he said when he was finished.

It was as if someone had stuck a knife in her heart. "Get out?" she repeated. "But I thought... If I..."

Blaise laughed scornfully. "You really thought I'd keep you? That I'd somehow find it in my heart to be affectionate towards a bloody Gryffindor? Hardly! Now get out of my sight, bitch."

When she realised that he was not going to welcome her in his life, she felt fury rise inside her; a fury so black that it completely filled her body and soul. Without thinking she called upon the first blunt object in her sight - a toy bludger - and made it pound down on him over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...

...until there was nothing left of his face to be recognised as that of Blaise Zabini. Long before she stopped, long before she realised what she had done, long before the wand fell out of her blood-sprayed hand, Blaise Zabini took his last breath and left the face of the Earth. Shocked by her monstrous act, she fell back. But it did not take long before a pleased smile came to her lips. She had done it. She had actually done it. Went through with something greater.

She had rid the world of a future Death Eater, she was sure of it. Yes, this had been an act of goodness, no doubt about it.

Immensely pleased with herself, she exited Zabini's dorm and walked back through the Slythering common room. They were all looking at her. All eyes. All ears. "Did you get yourself a good disgraceing, Weasley?" Pansy called out to her, laughing hysterically.

But then they noticed the blood stains on her shirt and jumper, on her skirt, and fell silent as one. "What did you do?" Marcus Flint asked slightly anxiously.

Ginny Weasley stopped dead in front of the sorry lot. With a cruel, emotionless grin on her face, she said:

"I disgraced him."


	3. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 3

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 3  
**

Rumours - a nasty pastime. And they circulated Hogwarts like energetic, annoying little Cornish pixies high on crack; nobody escaped them. Hermione Granger hated them, and she hated anyone who would stoop to spread them further. Naturally she heard it from Ron - who heard it from Angelina Johnson, who heard it from Dean, who heard it from Seamus, who heard it from Lee Jordan, who heard it from Neville, who accidentally overheard Malfoy and his cronies laugh at it all while being leg-locked for the zillionth time to date.

"Have you heard what they're saying?" he exclaimed when returning from Quidditch practice one night.

Hermione and Harry looked up from their Transfiguration notes. Harry still could not play, and was mighty bitter about it. Neither of them bothered to ask, because both of them knew that Ron would blurt it out anyway.

"There are rumours that it was McGonagall that killed Professor Trelawny!" he continued in the same sickly excited and fascinated tone of voice.

Hermione simply muttered, "Good for her," and went back to her studying. OWLs were coming up.

She could feel Ron's stare burn into her frizzy fringe. "Wha'? That's all you got to say?"

She forced herself to look at him again. "Well, it can't be true, can it? I mean, why would Professor McGonagall do anything like that? And say that she did, why haven't the Ministry stepped in to take her away from the school? They can't want her to keep teaching if she's murdered someone, can they?"

Ron was a perfect image of disbelief. "You sound as if you don't believe it," he said.

"You're right, I don't. It's only a rumour, right?"

"Probably just something that Malfoy made up," Harry agreed.

"No, no, no, this isn't something that the Slytherins have made up!" Ron objected. "There are practically proof! Snape witnessed everything, and he agreed to keep quiet about it because McGonagall had some kind of catch on him. Honestly, Hermione, haven't you noticed how he's always thriving on every opportunity to mock McGonagall in public? He must know that her little scam is about to blow up in her face."

"Ron!" Hermione warned him. She did not like the way he spoke of their teacher.

"What?" Ron seemed to be utterly oblivious of her fury. "It's what they say. If you don't believe me, go ask them yourself. Go ask Snape, I bet he'll tell you all the details more than happily. He's gloating about it - in a silent way."

Hermione left the boys to their dull imaginations and went to bed early that night - she just could not stand the gossipping for another second. She did not believe a word of what Ron had implied. McGonagall a cold-blooded murderer? It was impossible. She was a teacher, for crying out loud! She was way too smart to use the Avada Kedavra curse at school - she could not just go about scattering corpses around her anywhere she went.

Could she?

No matter how much she tried, Hermione could not just forget about it. Suddenly she started to notice that Professor Snape _was_ indeed gloating about the new situation between him and McGonagall, and McGonagall always seemed so nervous and jittery nowadays... Could it really be that she...?

Were the rumours_ true_?

There was only one way to find out. Hermione did not like the plan that was taking form within her mind, but she could not ignore it either. One Saturday she locked herself in a cubicle in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and took out her Time Turner. She had lied to Harry when she told him that she had returned it to Professor McGonagall two years ago; it had been too convenient to get rid of. Imagine, all the things she could do with it...

And now she was going to use it _against_ McGonagall.

The irony of it.

The _nerve_ of it!

But it had to be done. _Had_ to be done. For the welfare of the school, Hermione would clear Professor McGonagall's name once and for all.

Carefully counting the turns - one for each hour she was going to go back in time - she calculated the exact number that would take her back to the night that Professor Trelawny was killed.

It was really tricky to avoid being seen by any of her school mates since so many of them were out and about at this hour, but shortly thereafter she arrived at the doors to the Great Hall. Carefully, very carefully, she opened the big doors and left it one inch ajar. They would not notice her if she only kept quiet.

Inside the Great Hall, McGonagall and Trelawny were discussing something in low voices. Hermione was just about to utter a spell that would enhance her hearing when a noice caught her attention. Footsteps. Coming this way.

Instinctively, she hid behind a coat of armour and waited. No other than Snape himself came stalking out of the shadows, his long black robes billowing in his wake. He went straight to the Great Hall and opened the doors wide. Almost immediately his drawling voice broke the silence. "Minerva, what on Earth are you doing?"

Not thinking straight, just compelled to learn the truth, Hermione sprinted forward and halted in the doorway, just in time to see the remains of a strong, smoggy green light evaporate from the air around the stern McGonagall; her wand was pointed at the limp, shocked figure of Professor Trelawny that was sprawled on the floor.

A cry of fear escaped Hermione's throat. Both teachers turned in her direction. Terrified at what she had witnessed - and of being spotted - she turned on her heel and sprinted up the stairs to the first floor, not sure where she was going but aware of the urgency to go _some_where. She ran and ran - it felt as if she was running for days - until finally stopping in the fourth-floor corridor, panting, bent double. It was true. McGonagall _did_ murder Professor Trelawny! And Snape had witnessed it all... and he never told anyone about it either!

What should she do?

Shattered by her discovery, she reacted very strongly to the shape that rounded the corner in front of her without making any kind of noise to announce its arrival. Before she could even think about what she was doing - or even what she was seeing or feeling at the time - she acted solely on impulse and instinctive reflexes and uttered the one curse that killed: "Avada Kedavra!" When she realised what she had done it was already too late; the green smoggy light shot out of the tip of her wand and flew through the air towards the shape, almost as in slow motion. And when the shape stepped out into the candle light in the corridor and revealed herself, Hermione understood what was going to happen.

The face that she stared into was her own.

And in a fraction of a second she had time to think a lot of things; how she had totally forgotten that she had spent four hours in the library the day of Professor Trelawny's death, and that she had headed back through this very corridor at this very time, and how utterly pathetic it was that she had used the Time Turner to go back to that night only to kill herself to find out a truth that she did not even want to believe in. She also had time to project perfect, angelic, ethereal pictures of all her loved ones before the green light hit her past self; her parents, Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, Viktor Krum... Ron. She never got to tell him how incredibly cute she thought he was when he got all hysterical about her nagging. And the last thing that she thought was: How can this be happening? If I died that night two weeks ago, how can I remember living all those days? How can I be coming back here now? And what about Harry, Ron - the others? Will they remember me from these two weeks, or will they just remember me dying tonight, here, like this? Will they have any memory at all of what I did during this fortnight? And will I remember them once I'm dead? Will _they_ remember _me_?

And when the green light finally struck the rightfully shocked and bewildered Hermione-of-the-past, the present Hermione - the killer - knew exactly what would happen, even as it actually happened. Since she had been killed two weeks ago, she could not live now; her future self died with her past self. One second there was candlelit corridors, cold marble floors and the fear that her shocking discovery had imprinted on her - the next second it all ended, and there was nothing.

Nothing.


	4. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 4

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 4  
**

Many things could make a teenage boy angry, but there were not many things that would make him admit to being scared. Boys did not get scared, simply; that was exactly why Draco Malfoy was always reduced to a whimpering, shivering pile every time somebody decided to punch his face in. Most often Harry Potter, admittedly, but there had been quite a few glorious moments for Hermione Granger as well, bless her soul.

Everything had become so odd and choked since her unfortunate suicide – whether it had been intentional or not, no-one had been able to tell – and many things had changed. Ron Weasley would sometimes be caught crying in the dead of night, which he of course denied if you ever had the guts (or the stupidity) to ask him about it. The redhead needed no pity, and certainly no solace. The whole of Gryffindor common room often grew utterly and eerily silent in the evenings, and they all glanced at the empty armchair by the fire that no-one dared to sit in from time to time. It had been Hermione's favourite chair, and it was now some sort of shrine to honour her memory, out of courtesy to her best friends. Harry missed her a lot, too, it was apparent for any fool to see, even for Neville. The young raven-haired Potter would sit in a corner of the common room for hours at a time, turning his greasy, bent glasses in his hands as if searching for the meaning of life in the light-reflecting surfaces of the glass circles.

Hermione's death had even affected the Slytherins. For a whole fortnight there were no malicious comments or mockery heard from them about anything or anyone at all. Even Draco Malfoy lay off the mockery for a good seven days. Once he stopped Harry and Ron to somewhat awkwardly ask for directions to a classroom that he obviously knew the location of, and both boys could have sworn that the Slytherin was muttering "Sorry for your loss" under his breath before hurrying off, crimson with embarrassment.

Neville felt awfully bad for them, because he knew the pain of losing someone close to you, but he never found the appropriate words to tell them how he felt about it. He simply managed a "Sorry" before it got too painful and he had to bunk in his dorm, curled up in bed, hidden beneath the cool covers. He had loved Hermione, too. She had been one of his best friends, and she had never blamed or mocked him for anything.

One day he actually succeeded in gathering enough courage to approach Harry and Ron. They were sitting in one of the huge windows in the common room. "How are you two holding up?" Neville asked nervously.

Harry looked up at him. There was an emptiness in his green eyes. "I'm fine, Neville, thanks for asking."

Ron said nothing. It had become more obvious now than ever that he had been in love with Hermione, and he probably regretted never telling her so.

Searching for something appropriate to say, Neville heard himself blurt out, "And how's Ginny?"

Oh, what a stupid thing to say!

But instead of becoming angry, Ron actually looked straight at him with apparent gratitude. Obviously no-one else had had the courtesy and forthrightness to ask him about his sister's health, and he appreciated Neville doing so. "Sad thing, that is," he said. "Still in the mental institution, unfortunately. They say she's still babbling about disgrace and avenging Hermione's death, but otherwise she seems to get on pretty well..."

"Funny thing about that Blaise-guy, eh?" Neville said nervously.

Ron chuckled. "Yeah. But that bastard got what he deserved. I don't blame Ginny for beating him into a pulp – 'specially not after he raped her. Wasn't he like Malfoy's best friend or something?"

"That doesn't mean he deserved to die, does it?" Harry protested.

Ron moaned irritably and shook his head. "You are way too noble for your own good, Harry."

"But it's wrong to kill people, and Ginny—"

"Shut up!"

Neville did not dare stay any longer in case there was a real row pendant. He fled the common room altogether and went treading the corridors. It was starting to get dark. Maybe he was not even supposed to be there? Oh, who gave a shit, anyway?

"Lost, Longbottom?"

Neville froze. No. Not that voice. Slowly turning around, he thought, "Please let it be a Boggart, please let it be a Boggart..."

But no. It was the real Snape. In the flesh. Sallow and sinister flesh, admittedly, but flesh nonetheless.

"P-p-professor Sn-snape, sir," he stuttered, backing away a few inches.

Snape was eyeing him with obvious detest. The directness of his poisonous gaze always turned Neville's legs into jelly, and his throat was magically transformed into old sandpaper. If he was to talk now he would probably turn the air around them into dust or something, even without trying to use his wand first. "There, there, Longbotton," Snape drawled condescendingly, "no need to piss your pants. Wandering around in the corridors past nine - really, Longbottom. I would have thought that at least _you_ knew to live by the rules around here."

Neville said nothing. Just tried to swallow the painful lump that was currently occupying his throat. Maybe it was his heart trying to surface?

Snape suddenly got a very odd expression on his sinister face. He looked as if he was trying to work out the details of a masterly plan just taking form in his serpentine mind. Then his thin lips curled into a hideous smile. "I think I will let you off the hook this time, Longbottom. After all, this is the first time I catch you breaking the rules..."

"Really? Oh, thank you, sir!" Neville exclaimed with relief, but his brief moment of peace seemed to come to a bitter end.

"_If_ you agree to participate in a duel with me," Snape finished, the disgusting grin widening. He was enjoying the torturing of poor little Neville, and Neville knew that he would enjoy cursing him as much - if not more! But what choice did he have? He was not sure that Professor Snape would let him go even if he said, "Alright, okay, I'll take the detention," because Snape loved to see him shiver in fright.

So Neville had to pull himself together and face up to his greatest fear, and all he could do was hope for the best.

They took there positions, first facing each other, then swiftly turning their backs to each other, walking a good ten paces before stopping and turning around again. Neville was trembling to the bone when he faced his adversary, his wand held out in front of him. This was bad. This was more than bad. He wished that he had stayed around for Harry's and Ron's row instead of walking off on his own. Should not he have seen this coming?

And before he had time to react, Snape had uttered the first charm. "Rictusempra!"

Neville was caught by surprise at this, because he had expected something worse and more advanced than a simple Tickling Spell. For a second or two he succumbed to the tickles, but as soon as his head cleared up he raised his wand and yelled, "Engorgio!" The next moment Snape's left arm had swelled to four times its original size, making him sag to the left because of the new weight. Now Neville was prepared for the Professor's next move; he would know how to take it.

Snape, furious about his humongous baboon arm, screamed, "Stupefy!", but Neville was too quick, yelling, "Protego!", which made an invisible shield appear in front of him and furthermore deflected the Professor's last charm. What more was, the protection shield fired the Stunning Charm right back at Snape, who instantly became rigid and fell headlong to the floor. Neville, certain that he had won the duel, grinned satisfactory and used the Enervation Charm to undo Professor Snape's Stunning Charm and allow him to get back up on his feet. Preparing to thank Snape for an honest battle, Neville reached out his hand, but Snape simply pointed his wand at his gigantic arm, muttered "Reducio" and turned it back into its normal size. When that was taken care of, he turned to Neville, his wand pointed at the boy as if in mortal threat. "You!" he said, hissing hoarsely. "You! How _dare_ you fight back like some snotty little brat? I was supposed to win this duel, and I won't let one little set-back stop me from regaining my pride!"

Neville backed away in fright. "Bu-but, Professor Snape, you said that you-"

"SILENCE!" Snape opened his mouth to utter a curse, but Neville was quicker: "Incendio!"

One of the Charms that had been Hermione's speciality; the Fire-Conjuring Charm. Suddenly Snape's black billowy robes caught fire and lit up the Professor like a torch. With a stunned look in his black, beedy eyes he looked down at himself, amazed with the red-yellow-orange-blue-white flames that was quickly starting to devour him. Then, as the shock left him, he began to feel the excruciating pain of the flames hungrily licking at his lean, bent body, and he began to scream in agony. Neville watched in amazement as his nemesis was slowly reduced to charcoal ashes, a weird pride rising within him.

He had done it.

He had defeated Severus Snape.

Satisfied with himself and the successful duel he turned to walk back to his common room and boast about it to the others (they would all love him for this) when he found that Draco Malfoy was staring at him only five feet away.


	5. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 5

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 5  
**

The sky was going purple when it struck Sybill Trelawny - the awful premonition that would mean the ultimate end to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! It had taken her aback, stricken her at the least expected time - yet there was no denying that it had been awaited for many, many years to date. Oh, yes... the end had been drawing nearer for a long time now, and she had been impatiently waiting for destiny to strike. Oh, how dreadful - how very unfortunate! She had to inform the other teachers right away; something had to be done about the children, the poor, poor children that would be so brutally caught between justice and divine torment! They would have to send them home, every last one of them, yes every last one...

For they were all in grave danger.

* * *

"Did you get that from Fred and George?" Hermione asked, staring at the colourful sweets with obvious dislike.

"Yes, if you have to know, I did," Ron informed her mischievously. "It's in case I get bored with the lessons..."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking very important. "Have you ever thought that those lessons might be intended to prepare you for your future as a successful wizard?" she demanded.

Ron stuck out his tongue at her. "No!"

"Then maybe you should consider it now."

"But I don't want to be a successful wizard in the future! I wanna play professional Quidditch!"

"Then maybe you should start trying to save some goals before the Slytherins come up with more creative songs to cheer you up," she snapped acidicly.

Ron shot up from his chair. "You take that back!"

"No!"

"Would you two please keep the racket down? Some of us are trying to study..."

They both stopped dead and stared at Harry as if he was going mad.

Harry just sighed and shook his head with resignation. There just was no stopping those two once they had started.

Breaking free of her short spell of indecision, Hermione gathered her books and put them back in her bag. "I'm going back to the common room to resume my studies there," she informed them ceremoniously and left without another word.

Ron shrugged as if he had to prove something to Harry, but Harry paid no attention at all to his best friend at the moment.

* * *

It was getting nearer - the end! She could feel it in her bones. They were reverberating with ominous anticipation - and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop it all from happening. It was predestined. Inevitable.

Yet there was one person that Sybill had to speak with before leaving the school for ever: Minerva McGonagall. Since the headmaster had fled the scene of his unbelievable crime - hexing members of the Minstry and the Minister for Magic himself, what an outrage! - and that Umbridge woman was not to trust she had only one candidate on her list of possible disciples. Snape was out of the question; he had never understood the fine art of divination or any suchlike ability, he had simply mocked and bullied her for having the Eye. He just could not understand, could not understand... And all the other teachers were practically dumb as dimwits. There just was no trusting them. No, Minerva it had to be!

She was in her office, thank Lord!

"Minerva, I need to have a word with you," she said, squinting through her thick glasses to see the elder lady's face.

McGonagall did not seem all too pleased about this, but nevertheless put down her parchment and quill and straightened her spectacles. "What can be so urgent that it can't wait just a few minutes, Sibyll?" she queried with an underlying tone of dislike in her voice that completely went past Trelawny.

"Well, I'd rather not discuss it here, Minerva, this office is..." She did not quite know how to put it into words. "...unspiritual."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow in bafflement. "Well then, where do you suggest that we have this chat?"

Sybill only had to think for a second. "The Great Hall. Full of spiritual forces in there, much easier for me to tune in on the other realms there, yes yes indeed..."

Minerva was seemingly very reluctant to accompany the former Divination teacher to the Great Hall at this hour of day, but since there seemed to be no choice for her she came along without objections. When they were standing just below the teachers' long table she started to shift her feet impatiently. "Okay, Sybill, you've got my attention. What was it that you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Oh, Minerva, I have had the most teeeerrible vision - you cannot even begin to imagine or even try to fathom the horror that I went through thanks to the Eye!" Sybill said theatrically, gesturing wildly with her satin-clad arms. "I was sitting up in my tower, reading the tea leaves, when I was struck by a premonition so strong that it knocked me out of my chair and almost made me fall into the fire, but fortunately I managed to steer just clear of it."

"What a pity..."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing, Sybill," McGonagall sighed, "please do go on."

Trelawny nodded. "It is time, Minerva. This is the year that the glorious era of Hogwarts is coming to an end starting with a murder that is supposedly going to be commited within the next week. This murder will set off a chain-reaction of unexpected and shocking murders that will go on and on and on until the school finally has to close down. Minerva, we have to do something about this - we cannot let this happen. We need to send the children home, for they are in danger-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, McGonagall had uttered a long moan of irritation and taken out her wand. "Sybill, I am tired of all your imagined premonitions and your constant non-stopping blabber about death and destruction and the end of life as we know it. It has to come to an end, don't you understand?"

Trelawny did not know what to say. "Bu-but, Minerva... the children... I distinctly saw a lot of children die in my premonition, you have to-"

"Was it Potter again, Sybill?"

"Potter? No, actually he-"

"Oh, spare me the crap! I am fed up with your neurotic daydreaming - get a life, will you!"

The green light was the last thing that Sybill Trelawny ever saw.

* * *

"Minerva, what on Earth are you doing?"

McGonagall jerked and swirled around to find Snape just inside the big doors. There was not much to say in her defense when the smoggy green light was still hanging in the air and Professor Trelawny's body was lying right next to her, so she used the one piece of information that she knew might save her. "Severus, if you keep quiet about this little incident I will think twice about telling Professor Dumbledore about your reconvening with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Snape twitched. He had not expected that.

"So, do we have an agreement?"

He nodded and opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a shrill cry that pierced the night like a katana. Both turned to the door in time to see Hermione Granger run off towards the staircases, driven away by fear at what she had witnessed. A sting of guilt and worry shot through McGonagall.

"The girl," Snape said, "we have to stop her."

McGonagall knew that he was right, so both of them ran after her, hoping to get hold of her before she had time to tell any of her fellow students about the murder that had been committed only a minute ago. Driven by panic and cold concern for the girl's well-being, McGonagall ran much faster than her old legs would have liked, but when they rounded the corner on the fourth floor she found that she would not have had to run at all. Hermione was dead.

Snape stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that met them in the corridor. Because it was an odd sight, indeed. There were not one Hermione Granger, but two. McGonagall instantly knew what must have happened. The girl never returned the Time Turner after dropping those extra classes she had taken in her third year, and since McGonagall had given it to her illegally there had been no way for her to demand it back without raising suspicion towards herself. She must have used it to go back in time for some reason and accidentally come across herself while sneaking around looking for her answers. But what...?

They might never learn the truth about the motives behind Hermione's time travelling that night, but McGonagall had a feeling that it had something to do with the recent event. Therefore she never uttered any of her theories to anyone, not even Dumbledore - though he was sure to know it anyway.

The least she could do to make her wrong right was to give Hermione a decent funeral and memorial service, and that she did. It was heartbreaking to see all her friends cry at the loss of her, but McGonagall was reassured in the knowledge that it was for the greater good. The students needed her now that things at the school were deteriorating at such a dazzling rate - they needed her guidance.

This had merely been a sacrifice for the greater good of the remaining student body. One life for a few hundred.

And it had been worth it.


	6. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 6

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 6  
**

When the mail arrived that morning Ron was startled to find a large funny-looking parcel hanging from poor little Pigwidgeon's claws. He could barely fly with that thing attached to his legs, and Ron felt somewhat sorry for him - even though he was still a bloody menace after more than four years in Ron's care. His fellow classmates looked anticipatedly at him while he opened the package.

Within it was a fellytone - one of those odd machines that Muggles used to contact each other. Frowning, Ron turned the puke green plastic object in his hands wondering what the bloody Hell he was supposed to do with_ that_. He scrambled through the remaints of the wrapping paper. No note.

"Who's _that_ from?" Parvati Patil asked, evidently unfamiliar with the Muggle machine.

"I don't know," Ron said with honesty.

Maybe someone was trying to make a joke of him. Automatically he lifted his gaze to look at Malfoy - the most obvious bully to pull such a trick on him - but then he remembered that the Slytherin had been dead for exactly two years. Weird, that was. That very day two years earlier Malfoy had been pestering Ron and Harry as usual, and then later that night McGonagall had found Harry in the trophy room, delirius and acting really strange, mumbling to himself in parseltongue, and when she had gone to investigate the circumstances further she had found Malfoy dead with a hideous cut in the back of his head. Rumours had it that some dark wizard had gained entry to the school with the intention to kill Harry but instead stumbled over Malfoy. Since he had seen the perp he had had to die.

Simple theory, but Ron had always thought that it stank. Something just was not right about it.

The business with the fellytone delivery puzzled him the whole day and kept his mind busy. It was a good thing that someone had sent it to him, because it made him forget about having lost both his best friends in less than a month's time. He even took it to bed with him that night. It was only eight o-clock, but he could not stand being in the common room any longer; everyone was just talking about the upcoming graduation, which was in fact only two months away.

Just as he decided to put the disgustingly green thing away and try to get some sleep it rang. Scared half out of his wits, Ron jumped out of bed and backed away from the hateful machine.

It rang again. Again. Again.

"Why is it doing that?" Ron whined.

Then he remembered what his father had told him about Muggle fellytones. You were supposed to lift the handle-thingy and put it to your ear to answer it, right?

He approached it cautiously, then snatched up the handle and said, "Hello?"

"Ron? Is that you?"

Ron could have fallen down dead at that very moment. It was Harry!

"Harry! Blimey, you scared the shit out of me! Why on Earth did you send me a fellytone?"

"A what? Oh, you mean the telephone," the friend said at the other end of the line. "Yeah, I bewitched it so it would work without the cord being plugged into an outlet."

"The what being plugged into a what?"

"Never mind. Ron, I... I had to talk to you, but I can't risk going to the school..."

Harry fell silent. Ron had the feeling that their conversation would not at all be as pleasant as he had recently hoped for. "Whatsamatter, Harry? You sound... different."

Harry was still silent over at wherever-the-Hell-he-was, and it actually made Ron a little worried. Then, the words that he had never imagined to hear coming from Harry's mouth:

"I killed him, Ron."

Ron dropped the handle-thingy, which fell to the stone floor and made a hollow, _cling_ing sound that echoed in the dorm. Shaking visibly he plucked it up again. "Wha-what did you say, Harry?" His voice was trembling.

A moment's silence.

"I killed him."

Ron scratched his head, wondering what to do, what to say. "Um... don't mind me asking, but... who is it that you supposedly killed?"

"Malfoy."

Temporarily dumbstruck because of the irony in the situation, Ron heard himself say, "What? You killed Lucius?"

"No, Ron... Draco. I killed Draco. Two years ago today, remember?"

"But... but you couldn't have killed Draco," Ron protested, "that was some dark wizard that broke into the school-"

"Oh, is that what they're saying to cover it up?"

Ron frowned. "Cover it up?" he echoed blankly. "What d'you mean?"

"Since I ran away from school I've been doing some digging, and I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore covered my arse back there for some reason. Probably because he still expects me to save the wizarding community and the rest of the world from Voldemort-"

"Don't say that name!"

"Sorry."

"So basically what you're saying is that Dumbledore let you get away with murder simply because of that prophecy that Trelawny had all those years ago?"

"Yes. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's the truth."

"I believe you. And let me say, if it really were you who killed that bastard Malfoy... I'm proud of you, mate. Couldn't have done a better job, myself."

Harry was silent for a long while before finally replying. "Ron, I'm not proud of what I did. I was only acting on pure self-defense, and his hitting his head on that coat of armour was an accident, I never meant for it to happen and I deeply regret it. I'm having nightmares about it at night, I sleep ill... Ron, there are no advantages to murder."

Ron too was silent for a while before replying. "Sorry, mate. Got carried away a bit there. You're right - even if that bastard deserved to die a very painful death... So, what d'you want me to do? Because I'm guessing you're not sharing this information with me just for the fun of it." A half-hearted but not well-recieved attempt at a joke.

"I wanted to tell someone else about it in case something happens to me."

The frown on Ron's face deepened into a scowl. "Harry, is there something you're not telling me? Are you in any danger?"

"I'm not sure... Listen, I can't speak to you much longer, but keep the telephone in your trunk and I'll contact you again when I get the chance, okay? Just keep this secret for me, eh, mate?"

"O'course, you can count on me."

"Cheers, mate. Cheers."

* * *

It had to be done quickly, before he had the time to inform anyone else about the true events that had taken place only two years previously. He had never dared to think that the Weasley boy would become a threat to his greater plan, but since that day had come he needed to act before anything got in his way. There was only one thing to do.

Therefore he snuck into young Ronald's dorm at night, carrying a huge fluffy pillow. It was now or never.

Dumbledore pushed the pillow down onto the boy's face and held it fast until his breathing had subsided and there was no pulse.

Then he returned to the Headmaster's suite to get a good night's sleep.


	7. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 7

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 7  
**

McGonagall came to the headmaster's tower as soon as she got the call, not knowing what to expect but suspecting the worst. Voldemort had yet to strike at Hogwarts, but the attack would come in due time, they were all sure of it. Since Harry Potter was no longer a resident at the school there were no guarantees that they were ever safe there again, and the long awaited attack could come at any minute.

And when it did come... it would be with the full force of the Death Eater army that he had gathered for the past three or four years. No-one would be spared; they were all doomed.

Dumbledore was standing by the window, looking out at the dark night with a thoughtful expression on his old, pale face. Something was apparently bothering him, and Minerva wondered if she should be reassuring him or be frightened for him. "Albus? Albus, what has happened?" She took a few steps towards him when he did not answer, first intending to put a hand on his shoulder, but then thinking better of it and stopping short of him. "Are they coming?"

She did not think that she needed to elaborate on who "they" were.

The old headmaster kept looking out of the window, absent-mindedly scratching his beard. Then he lowered his hand and put it in the pocket of his dress robes. "I have taken care of the Weasley boy, Minerva."

His words were so cold and indifferent that they sent chills down McGonagall's spine.

"What are you talking about, Albus? Young Mr. Weasley is in his bed sleeping at the moment - or at least I would hope so considering the time of day," she said with her usual slightly mocking tone.

The headmaster began to scratch his beard again, almost as if he was stroking a pet that he loved. "He knew too much, had to do something before he had any chance to tell the others."

Now the lump in the pit of McGonagall's stomach magically transformed into a heavy pint-sized stone, a cancerous swelling that threatened to drag her down into the bottomless abyss of cold, stark despair. "Albus... what in the world are you talking about? The boy..."

"The boy received a package this morning from our dear Mr. Potter - an object that the Muggles call a 'telephone,' I believe. Potter used this to inform Weasley about the true events of two years ago concerning young Mr. Malfoy's death. Now, we couldn't have that, now could we? I had to do something."

A dagger seemed to pierce Minerva's heart. "Albus... you didn't..."

He turned to face his colleague. His small beedy eyes were blacker than the blackest night sky and perilously cold. "It was all for the sake of the Order, Minerva. Nothing to weep over."

"No... nothing to weep over? Albus, how can you speak of it like that? Didn't you ever think about the boy? About that sweet, innocent boy..."

"It was a necessary sacrifice."

"He might never have told anyone about it!"

"We couldn't be sure of that, now could we, Minerva?" Dumbledore mused, a sickly satisfied smile on his thin lips.

McGonagall felt rage building up inside her, rage that she had not felt since she was a young witch going to Hogwarts herself, and it threatened to break free at any second now. Not aware of her own actions she grabbed a shiny silver letter opener from the desk beside her and stabbed Dumbledore with it hard in the chest. He did not react to it, did not even flinch, and this only made Minerva more outraged: She stabbed him again, and again, and again, and again, and again-

-until there seemed to be nothing left of him to stab but warmish slabs of bloodtainted flesh. And he still had that aggrevating, self-righteous sneer on his face, the bloody bastard. That sneer. _That sneer..._

* * *

They came for her that day. The Ministry. Cornelius Fudge himself showed up for the arrest, bless his soul. The courtesy which he showed her warmed her heart, even though she still felt cold and stiff for what she had done.

"Minerva, you know we have to take you away now," Fudge said in a grave, disheartened voice. "We can't let you teach at this school anymore, not after everything that you have done."

"What I have done? What about the hideous immoral things that _he_ did?" McGonagall yelled, desperately trying to explain why she had acted the way she had done. "He killed that boy... that poor Weasley chap... What will I tell his parents? What will I tell Potter? Both his best friends are dead now, and he himself is on the run because of one bloody accidental murder two years ago..."

Fudge twitched. "What did you say, Minerva? Potter's on the run from a murder? On who?"

McGonagall bit her lip. She should not have said that, now should she? This had been the one secret that Albus and her had agreed to keep in the quiet, and she had broken that holy promise.

Well, in his own befuddling way, so had he.

With a sigh, she decided to tell the Minister the whole story.


	8. The Hogwarts Murders Vol 8

**The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 8  
**

"What the Hell are you doing?" he yelled, dishevelled at the sight that awaited him around the corner. That dimwit Longbottom was standing with his back to Draco, holding his wand out in front of him, and just when Snape was about to finish the ungrateful pain-in-the-arse, Longbottom set fire to the him. Draco, just returning from one of his nightly walks around the school (Prefect duty, bloody boring at that), stopped dead in his tracks when he realised that his favourite teacher and most important ally at Hogwarts was going up in flames - literally! The scene was just too absurd to be considered at first, but then Longbottom turned around with that self-satisfied utterly annoying grin on his podgy face... Draco just could not stand it. The nerve of him!

When Longbottom realised that he was no longer alone the smile faded from his face and stiffened in a wry, demented grimace. _You know what is coming for you, don't you?_ Draco thought darkly as his hand closed around the handle of his wand in his robes pocket. _You know what your punishment is, don't you?_

"Malfoy, p-please, don't," Longbottom was stuttering, but there was no use. Begging for mercy was all in vain, for Draco had no intention to spare him the pain and the suffering that he planned for his sorry nemesis. There was no-one else in the corridor; no Potter to come to his rescue. He was all Draco's now.

"Ma-Malfoy?"

"Crucius!" The curse hit Longbottom with the force of a divine sledge hammer and sent him screaming to the floor. Furthermore Draco watched him writhe and twitch and roll his eyes with pleasure greater than anything he had ever felt before. Torture was such a turn-on; better than those cheap porno magazines that Muggle boys entertained themselves with a lonely Saturday afternoon. Death and destruction had always fascinated Draco, even when he was a child, but nothing had ever caught his full attention like the screams of people in utter, excruciating pain. It was not death that was the ultimate punishment, what everyone feared - it was pain. Death did not hurt; death did not feel at all. But pain... oh, pain sure as Hell made them scream and beg for mercy! Not even the really masochistic ones wanted to be martyrs.

When the effect of the curse was starting to wear off, Longbottom drew a long, wretched breath of relief and sagged down into a formless pile on the cold marble floor. Draco walked up to him, stood towering over him, enjoying every second of his superiority and limitless power. Longbottom was his. His pain was Draco's to enjoy.

"Crucius!"

The dance of the agonisingly tormented once more rocketed Longbottom's podgy body and made Draco hard. Oh, the pain. How he loved to watch them suffer. The effect it had on him was always the same, and he simply could not get enough of it. Now, outraged at the hideous crime that Longbottom had commited by cold-heartedly and remorselessly murdering Professor Snape, the blind rage that sprung from the human fire that he had witnessed nurtured the hatred that he felt towards this boy and made his curse even more powerful than usual; it was nearly killing Longbottom only on the second go. Encouraged by this new stage of magical genius, Draco decided to go all the way this time. He would not settle with just the pain; he wanted death.

When the effect started to wear off again, it was as if Longbottom sensed what was about to happen, because he lifted his gaze and looked straight at Draco. "Malfoy, please... don't do it... don't..."

But Draco did not listen. Smiling slyly, he raised his wand and uttered the curse anew. "Crucius!" And this time the force of the curse was so strong and powerful that Longbottom stifled on a silent scream. Blood was slowly trickling out of his ears and his nostrils. Bubbles of bloody phlegm was forming in the corners of his mouth. A few seconds later his head dropped back down on the stone and he became still.

It was over.

The satisfaction that Draco felt at this murder was immense and addictive. Thrilled at the aspect of getting this rush again he wandered off to seek out new prey; maybe a Gryffindor first-year... a girl... Yes, a girl, they always screamed more. From now on it simply would not do to curse his victims a couple of times and then cast a Memory Charm to make them forget about it afterwards - from now on he would kill every time. Simply because he got off on it.

Still immensely happy with himself he decided to take the route around the library on his way back to the Slytherin common room, just to get another whiff of "fresh air" before hitting the sack.

Annoyingly enough - but not very surprising, though - there was someone else walking the corridors that night - someone that completely ruined his splendid post-murder mood.

Potter.

* * *

**_So... did you get it? ;P The order in which the murders occurred? Hope you enjoyed reading my ickle story, but whether you did or not... thanks anyway! X3 And psst..! McGonagall's confession is coming up! ;P /Piper_**


	9. The Final Confession

**The Final Confession**

"It all started two years ago when Professor Trelawny came to my office and said that she wished to speak to me. But she couldn't simply tell me right there what it was she wanted, so I went to the Great Hall with her. She started to ramble about prophecies and some sort of vision she claimed to have had, as always. But this time... She said that she had seen a murder taking place at Hogwarts, and that that particular murder would set off a chain reaction of murders that would lead to the end of Hogwarts. Mr. Fudge, sir, I was fed up with her disillusions and I simply had no patience left with her. So I used the Avada Kedavra curse on her.

"Snape saw me perform it. He vowed to keep it a secret as long as I didn't tell anyone that he had returned to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and merely _figured_ as a spy for the Order. He was actually spying on the Order and warned the Dark Lord about all the counter-attacks they were planning, an exceptional position for him I suppose. I didn't like the thought of protecting a Death Eater, but what other choice did I have? The students need me, and I couldn't let one little mistake prevent me from teaching the next generation of witches and wizards, because they are the ones that will have to fight You-Know-Who when that day comes.

"But, you see, there was another witness... little Hermione Granger happened to walk by just when I had... on Trelawny... and neither Snape nor I could let her get away with that information. What we planned to do was hideous, yes, unforgivable... but it had to be done. It's just that, when we caught up with her she was already dead. And there were two bodies, two Hermionies... It took me some time to figure that one out, I admit, but it is really quite simple, Minister. In her third year, Hermione was given a Time Turner to enable her to attend all the classes she had chosen for herself, but when she dropped those extra classes she never returned the Time Turner. My guess is that she heard a rumour about me killing Professor Trelawny and went back in time to see for herself, because she simply couldn't think such a thing of her teacher... oh, dear... I deeply regret that it had to happen. Little Hermione...

"As you probably know, Hermione was quite close to Ron Weasley's younger sister, Ginny, and when she learnt that Hermione had committed suicide she... she went mad. She killed a boy, Cornelius. Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin fifth-year. It is rumoured that he raped her, and that she wanted to avenge that, but... to be honest... I just don't know what to make of it. That is why they sent her to that mental institution.

"A few weeks later, many dark events took place... I know that Dumbledore went to extreme extents to cover it all up, but maybe you have heard something about it. I don't know exactly what happened - I can only guess. We found Neville Longbottom tortured to death in the forth floor corridor, lying next to the burnt corpse of Professor Snape. I'm not sure, but Neville might have left his dormitory after curfew and happened to encounter Snape in the corridor. Why they were both dead, I have no idea. And later... we also found Draco Malfoy, another Slytherin, dead below a statue in another corridor further down. It was assumed - this you might remember - that a Dark wizard had gained entry to the school with the intention of killing Harry Potter, and that the poor Malfoy boy had come in his way.

"But exactly two years later, this very night, the since missing Harry Potter called his best friend Ronald Weasley to tell him that he was the one who murdered young Mr. Malfoy. When Dumbledore heard about that, he went straight to the boy's room and smothered him with a pillow. Minister, I had to kill him. Don't you see? It was the only way to stop the evil circle that Trelawny created two years ago by telling me about that premonition! I didn't believe her when she told me... but by killing her I made it come true. And it had to stop."

Cornelius Fudge regarded Professor McGonagall with apparent fright and utmost horror. Several minutes ticked by before he cleared his throat and gave her his answer to that long monologue.

"We have to shut down Hogwarts."


End file.
